


Dave Strider and the Stiller Shades

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Homestuck
Genre: AU, Gen, Hogwarts, Potterstuck, Third Year, Why?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider is too cool for shitty, unironic cliches. Especially cliches involving heroism, prophecies, and the ilk. Unfortunately for Strider, his third-year at Hogwarts begins with a stunning development when the 13-year old finds out about a strange prophecy made about a red-eyed child...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dave Strider and the Stiller Shades

Dave Strider, third-year Gryffindor, breathes shallowly, kneeling on the floor of the dueling room. His eyes, behind his now-cracked shades, focus dully on the floor- it's a nice, stone, tiled floor, with dirt ground into its cracks from years gone by. An audience of various houses and years surround him on all sides; they're in a wide-set circle about twenty feet away from the duel.

The duel which is going spectacularly shittily for Dave Strider. He raises his head numbly to look at his opponent- Slytherin fifth year Eridan Ampora, who's giving a strangely sharkish grin as he stares down at Strider from behind a pair of decidedly unironic nerd glasses. His dark hair's slicked back as usual, strange scar marking his forehead, Slytherin scarf's silver threads twinkling in the room's windowlight.

"I'm gonna give you another chance to surrender," Eridan says, voice rising and falling like strange waves, his British accent posh, just another fucking sign of how  _high-blooded and aristocratic_ he is, and Dave can't stand it.

Dave spits on the floor in front of him and makes as if to rise. Eridan blinks. "Expelliar-" he begins, in his wavering voice, and Dave yells out "LANGLOCK" in a definitely uncool and altogether ungathered tone.

Eridan gasps for a minute and Dave hopes dully that this is his chance, that if Eridan cannot speak, then perhaps he might have a shot, even if Eridan -is- a stupid fifth year. Maybe nonverbal's his weakness.

"Tara-"

Eridan flicks his wand and something  _hurts_ and Dave can hear the crowd suddenly screaming as blood spurts from his chest and Eridan's face turns horrified and he's fucking  _bleeding out all over the floor why won't somebody do something something **something**_

 

\----------

**_A Sorting Hat, you'll surely see_ **

**_On heads future, current and previously_ **

**_A wise old hat with a brim quite wide_ **

_**Which shields youngsters' minds and peers deftly inside** _

 

**_Come right up, don't be alarmed_ **

**_You'll find I'm neither hexed nor charmed_ **

**_Slytherin and Gryffindor all alike_ **

**_Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, I do not sort for spite_ **

 

**_but instead for what is right for you-_ **

**_so come on up, I'll enjoy the view_ **

**_This song is growing long and so_ **

**_I'll stop and you'll all line up and go_ **

 

**_beneath my brim and at my whim_ **

**_be sorted and, through thick or thin_ **

**_in the houses chosen you will remain._ **

**_So come, and play my Sorting Hat game!_ **

 

_The red-eyed not-yet first year looked distinctly unimpressed with the song and watched, not nervous at all- no sir-ee- as the entirety of the Great Hall burst into tremendous applause. Dave clapped unenthusiastically before sticking his hands in his robe's pockets and looking over to the Slytherin table. Sure enough, his brother, Dirk, sat there, staring rather intently at Dave. Dave gave a shrug and Dirk merely raised an eyebrow._

_"RAVENCLAW," the hat boomed out. "HUFFLEPUFF. GRYFFINDOR, SLYTHERIN, SLYTHERIN." One boy caught Dave's eye; he had nervous blue eyes and a shock of black hair- and these ridiculous buck teeth. The hat popped onto the boy and hummed. "You'd do fine as that," the Hat said. The boy wriggled uncomfortably beneath the Hat. "Well, you would," it said flatly. The boy frowned and the hat sighed. "Though you've a penchant for courageous stuff, I suppose I could place you in...HUFFLEPUFF!!!"_

_The boy dashed from under the Hat and ran awkwardly to the Hufflepuff table._

_Minutes passed as more were sorted. Eventually Dave's turn came. He approached the Hat, willing himself to be calm. He placed it on his hea-_

**_Oooh, look at that. Definitely not Ravenclaw._ **

no

 

there is no way your reading my mind

**Yep, definitely not Ravenclaw. Magic, Strider. Too honest to be Slytherin. Say, you've got the spark in you. A firey heart. And you're certainly destined for greatness...**

_Dave grimaced._

just because i killed some dude when i was a baby dont mean jack shit man

**Not what I meant. Loyal you are, but I think...**

_"This one's a...GRYFFINDOR!!!"_

_From across the Great Hall, Dave spots his brother, the third-year, staring coolly at him. Dave watches as Dirk slowly smiles and gives two thumbs up. The Slytherins around him look confused, but Dave doesn't care. He merely nods once and heads over to Gryffindor's table._

_\---_

"Rennervate, rennervate,  _dammit-_ " 

The nurse, a pale woman with a worried expression, waves her wand about Dave Strider's unconscious, injured body. "Wound's sealed but I can't- get- him- to wake up-"

"Miss Paint, beebee, just let me take care a this, okay? Londy's gotcha." A woman with pink eyes gives a bright smile at the nurse before waggling a flask of purple concotion in the air.

\---

_Dave Strider made his first friend his second day. It was the Hufflepuff with the buckteeth and the wide blue eyes and the dumb glasses._

_Dave had been accosted by a few upperclassmen in the halls who had been eager to see the famous peepers. The red rubies. THE CHOSEN EYEBALLS. Or as Dave liked to call them, 'his normal fucking eyes, they weren't that big of a deal.'_

_But apparently they were, because he'd gotten them after being attacked by a damn Dark Lord as an infant._

_Some anonymous Ravenclaw girl had asked him to take off his shades and had gotten a polite 'no'._

_Hey, some dickhead said in the hallway. Take off your glasses for a minute, she wants to see your eyes. You defeated Lord English, right?_

_Dave backed up and tried not to freak out on the guy. He'd said no. But then they'd started surrounding him, and someone had grabbed his glasses and fuck that shit, he kneed them and punched the shit out of 'em. Dirk would have been proud._

_The whole struggle ended up with Dave holding a pair of broken shades in his hands._

Dave Strider stirs in his unconsciousness.

_All of the sudden, the familiar yellow-and-black of Hufflepuff appeared from behind a column. "Wow,"  the voice whispered, airy. "You totally kicked their butts!"_

_It was the Hufflepuff- "John Egbert," the fellow 11-year-old beamed, sticking out a hand and giving a goofy grin. "I, um- oh. Wow. Your glasses are trashed, huh?"_

_Dave crossed his arms and said nothing, making as if to place the broken glasses back on his face. John shook his head and grabbed them; Dave shook his head and whipped out his wand, ready to hex-_

_"Oculus Reparo," John said brightly, tapping his wand on the bridge of Dave's glasses before handing the newly-repaired shades back to the pale, blonde boy._

_Dave blinked down at the offered glasses._

_"I got mine broke the first day by some people and a Ravenclaw taught me how to fix them," John explained. "Um, here you go."_

_Dave didn't smile. He raised an eyebrow. "Thanks." Then- "What's your first class?"_

_"Charms," John answered. Dave nodded._

_"Me too. Let's go."_

_John blinked and followed the Gryffindor._

 

Is he regaining consciousness?

Painty, babe, don't worry, Londe's got thi-

Mayor!!!

Shit, headmaster alerts, totes bad newsy-

Fever dreams rush through Dave's head. 

_AND THE LORD SHALL MARK HIM AS HIS-_

Davey, baby, you awake yet?

_WITH THE BRIGHT EYES OF FI_

Painty, baby, he's waking up!!!

(it was like static, STATIC, the voices around Dave, disrupting the one voice he heard resonating in his head, screwing up the message, what was-)

_HE MAY BRING FORTH THE OUROBOROUS, SERPENT OF DE_

Look at that!! Stirring alre

_OR PRESERVE T_

Dave Strider sits up in a medical ward bed that smells of potions and wheezes.

"He's awake!"

\--


End file.
